


Gabriel Lorca and the Sun

by Shadaras



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Creepy Pining, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Masturbation, Mirror Gabriel Lorca is not a good person, Obsession, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-03 06:51:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16321238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadaras/pseuds/Shadaras
Summary: Gabriel Lorca thought about what it would feel like to have Michael Burnham touch him. If that light would get inside him, if he could reflect some of that glory and have it for himself, or if he would be nothing more than a pet, a playtoy for the wonder that she was.





	Gabriel Lorca and the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote most of this in February and then didn't touch it until after s2's trailer came out and reminded me that I had a mostly-finished fic sitting in my documents. Uh. Enjoy?

Michael Burnham burned like the sun.

Gabriel hadn’t expected that to be true across universes. He’d expected it of his Michael, chosen daughter of the Emperor and heir to all the power a person could ever ask for, raised and groomed in glory. It had wreathed her in fire, much like the mycelial core that powered _Charon_ , and he hadn’t asked any further questions.

He’d seen glimmerings of it the first time he’d laid eyes on her, but his Michael hadn’t become the sun-wreathed emblem of all they could accomplish until—well, until she’d become _his_ Michael.

This Michael had not been groomed for power. This Michael had been raised by _Vulcans_ , had been torn away from— Gabriel sucked his breath past his teeth. He couldn’t think like that, here. He studied the image of Michael Burnham, mutineer and traitor, and saw once more the halo around her head that he remembered so vividly. The Federation was so lenient with mutineers. It would be the work of a month, perhaps, until he could bring her to _Discovery_ and begin putting all the pieces in place for his—and her—return home.

* * *

The point wasn’t to make a dramatic entrance, Gabriel told himself. The point was to _see_ her. His eyes burned, but he held off on the eye drops anyway. He had to _know_.

The doors slid open and she walked in, light cascading around her like a pair of wings, fire incandescent across her shoulders and wreathing her hair. Michael blinded him and she would never realise, because he smiled broadly and tapped the signal to bring up the lights, casually bullshitting his way through an explanation of his “injury” and his designs for her. The public ones, at least.

Inside, all he could think was _It’s her, it’s her; it’s really her_ , and as soon as the doors closed behind her once more, securing her place on his ship, Gabriel sank into his chair and closed his eyes (afterimages still playing across them) and let himself acknowledge the ache in his body, half sorrow for what he had lost and half arousal at what he could potentially have, if he played his cards right.

Gabriel Lorca took a breath, ordered the computer to lock his quarters, and thought about what it would feel like to have Michael Burnham touch him. If that light would get inside him, if he could reflect some of that glory and have it for himself, or if he would be nothing more than a pet, a playtoy for the wonder that she was.

He leaned his head back and gently placed his hand over his cock. She wouldn’t think to notice him like that, not this Michael. But if she did—

He groaned, hips tilting towards his hand. She was righteous, this Michael Burnham, and he wanted her to burn for him, to let her fire rip straight through him and purify everything that he was. She could do it with a touch, he thought, if she grasped his throat and just _looked_ at him with all the force of a true believer who found him wanting.

(He _wanted_. He wanted so much, but it was unclean, when she did not know him and could never know him the way that his precious Michael did.)

But, with time, perhaps—

Perhaps she would see something in him nonetheless.

Gabriel focused on the image of her haloed in stars, of the way the Federation uniform fit her better than prison garb ever could, and slid to his knees in front of the starfield his office faced. He rested his free arm against the window, and leaned his head against it, hand clutching his hair futilely. It would be different if her hand were there, but—

It was something.

He fucked his hand to the memory of Michael’s and thought about the stars burning in her eyes and around her shoulders, her voice telling him that he was a vile worm, a coward, unfit for the position that he sought. He shuddered against the window as he thought about the way his Michael’s hands would curl around his hips, and wondered if this Michael could ever touch him the same way.

 _I will find my way home,_ he promised as he came with a choked sob, thinking of the image of Michael Burnham on trial for mutiny, still standing strong and proud and haloed in a solar flare. _And I will find you again, in her._

* * *

The first time she touched him it was a glancing touch and meant nothing.

His arm burned for the next hour and he had to focus past the desire to kiss her, to swallow up the sun that rested in her chest, her mouth, her tongue.

It made it very difficult to lead the bridge crew in war exercises.

* * *

_You will forget her, forsake her,_ a traitorous part of his mind whispered at night, or in the shower, when he was bringing himself off to the thought of all the incidental contact that she had no way of knowing built up such a need for release.

He shook his head, sending droplets of water flying everywhere, and turned off the shower. He hadn’t come in the shower this time. His cock was heavy as he toweled himself dry, taking care to avoid rubbing himself too much, because he was far too close and he didn’t want to come so unintentionally. Especially not when his head was filled with guilt at how Michael worked him up unknowing and aroused him so easily. He’d realised that— if she didn’t know, then she couldn’t give permission for him to come, and if she didn’t give permission, then...

Then he was left sitting on his bed (smaller than the one he’d had on _I.S.S. Buran_ ), his cock hard and hand drifting towards it instinctively before he caught himself and held it back at his side. He would deny himself. He could be good for her, or the memory of her, or—

Too complicated.

Gabriel took a breath and cleared his mind of all thoughts of his home and the people he’d left behind. When he could focus solely on the beat of his pulse in his chest and cock, he closed his eyes and spread his legs. Carefully, keeping his attention on the pure physicality of his body, he stroked himself. It wasn’t as good as—

He squeezed his cock harder, and pinched his nipples with his free hand, letting the bright electricity clear his mind. He was so close now, hips canting up into his hand as he thrust and his nails scratched down his chest, arcs of sensation cascading over him until he came in hot sticky dripples all over his hand with a cut-off grunt.

Slowly, he released his cock, let it rest between his legs in oversensitive softness. At least _it_ was satisfied with his efforts. Gabriel opened his eyes in the dimness of his room that never seemed quite dark enough. The pit in the center of his stomach hadn’t changed. There wasn’t any lessening of desire, or any sense that something had been released alongside his ejaculation.

“Fuck this,” he muttered to the ceiling.

As soon as his cock stopped making every movement feel like too much, Gabriel stood and showered in ice-cold water, rising himself clean once more. Mechanically, he dressed himself and went through his nightly rituals before retiring to bed.

He lay in the not-quite-darkness, and could not have said when he fell asleep.

* * *

The first time he saw her smile, he had to make an excuse to go to a different room.

He had forgotten—

He had forgotten so many things, but especially the way that she burned so bright when she smiled, when she was happy, and this Michael burnt brighter still and he didn’t know if that was because of everything in this universe being a shade too bright or if that was just _her_ , filled with more potential even than his own Michael.

She was smiling at another man, one whose face Gabriel thought he might have seen once in his home universe, not at him. Lieutenant Ash Tyler was a broken man, but a useful one. There was nothing in him worth Michael’s time, but there was also nothing he could do about this connection.

So instead Gabriel went to the gym and practiced hand-to-hand combat, imagining Ash Tyler’s face broken and bleeding and bruised again, until there was nothing left for Michael to smile at, and he could have her all to himself once more.

* * *

When he brought _U.S.S. Discovery_ back to his original universe ( _You could just say home,_ he told himself, but he wasn’t quite sure it was true anymore), Gabriel let out a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding, and pretended ignorance as his crew (and they were his, just as much as _I.S.S. Busan_ ’s crew had been) began to understand what was going on.

Michael understood more quickly than most.

She even accepted his plan as soon as he brought it to her.

She even placed her hand on the nape of his neck, and Gabriel shivered beneath her skin’s warmth, knowing that the only reason his crew couldn’t see his arousal was because he had already caged his cock in preparation. He could ride the heat of his arousal, deal with the ever-increasing pressure in his crotch, but he could not accept his crew seeing him undone.

Gabriel let Michael lead him through the transporter, and let her throw him to the ground, every inch the shining angel he had known her to be.

When Michael tossed him into the Emperor’s dungeons, Gabriel came in his pants, dick half-hard, and felt his come seep into his underwear, staining his pants (but nobody could tell; they were thick, his come would only touch the inside, and they were dirty, stained with sweat and grime already). Gabriel gasped, and shuddered, and abandoned himself to the torture he richly deserved, cocooning himself in the memory of Michael’s gaze:

In that moment, she saw him, and she cared for him, and she had left him here to protect him.

Gabriel smiled.

Then the pain hit, and Gabriel started to scream.

* * *

She left him flayed open when she tossed him into the sun, rejecting everything he was—everything they, together, could be.

Gabriel did not turn back as he was consumed.

Even as he burned, he saw her eyes, watching him, making sure she saw every moment of his death.

(Even in this, she was kind.)


End file.
